


Echoes

by VanaTuivana



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Being Lost, Caves, Developing Relationship, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Mildly Happier AU, My Slashy Valentine, Pre-Slash, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanaTuivana/pseuds/VanaTuivana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon-divergence AU: Maeglin never went to Gondolin. Instead he got himself lost in the endless cave systems under the Ered Luin with the most irritating, impossible, tone-deaf Fëanorian of them all.  Everything is Celebrimbor's fault, naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mangacrack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/gifts).



The distant rumble was louder than thunder, bouncing off stone walls to echo a hundred times over, making the ground tremble beneath his feet and sending pebbles cascading down a rocky slope to his right. Maeglin twisted around, his heart in his throat for a moment, though he’d never have admitted it to anyone. He _knew_ that sound, and it never portended anything good. A cave-in, maybe miles away through the twisting caverns, maybe in the next craggy chamber. Sound did strange things underground, he well knew.

“Celebrimbor?” he called, tentatively. His voice reverberated around the cavern, but there was no response; he cursed the jewelsmith’s name (quietly) and set out to find him.

This was all Celebrimbor’s fault. It was his fault that they were even in the Ered Luin in the first place, his fault for listening to foolish rumors of rich ore underground and petitioning the High King to send a party out to survey the caves under the mountains, his fault for _joining_ that party and sucking Maeglin in too, his fault for dragging Maeglin away from the scouting party because he thought there might be an untapped vein of mithril running through these mountains, his fault for wandering away into the darkness while Maeglin made an inspection of the ore in the cavern walls. His fault for being an insensible, impulsive, thoughtless _Fëanorian_.

He lifted his light-stone and trudged onward. Darkness didn’t bother him, nor the damp, cold closeness of the caves. And being alone was a positive blessing, without the endless chatter of the other Elves in his ears for a change. What _did_ bother him was the idea of Celebrimbor being crushed to death under a rockslide before Maeglin could find him and remind him that this was all his fault in the first place. He grumbled as he picked his way through a field of glittering rock formations, ignoring their beauty in favor of getting to the other side as quickly as possible.

“Celebrimbor,” he called again, and at his elbow a voice answered, “Yes?”

To his everlasting shame, Maeglin jumped and dropped his light-stone. He turned to glare at Celebrimbor. “Where have you been?”

The smith stooped to pick up the stone and offered it out; Maeglin took it back without thanks. “Oh, I was in the next cave over, through that little passage. There’s a really marvelous rock formation there. I wanted to find out how it was made. Did you hear that rockslide? I wonder how far away it was.”

Maeglin scowled at him. “Let’s go,” he said, and walked stiff-backed in the direction they’d come, Celebrimbor chattering on as he followed behind.

This was _definitely_ all Celebrimbor’s fault.

~

“Well,” Celebrimbor said eventually, as they stood staring at the mountain of fallen rock in front of them, the dust still hanging in the air from the rockslide that had blocked it entirely, “that changes things.” He sat down and opened his pack, pulling out an apple. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Maeglin said shortly, surveying the damage with a sinking heart. From here it looked like there was no way they could get through this passage to rejoin the scouting party, but maybe there was still an opening at the top, if they could only get there. He set down his own pack and started to pick his way carefully up the pile of rubble. The rocks shifted treacherously under his feet at every step, but he struggled on, using his hands to steady himself.

“Maeglin?” Celebrimbor called up to him after a while. “How is it going?”

He didn’t deign to answer that completely nonsensical question. His hands were scraped from jagged rock, he’d twisted one ankle on a missed step, and there was absolutely no way through. Maeglin sat where he was and brooded over the problem.

“Maeglin?” Celebrimbor persisted, and with a sigh Maeglin started to climb back down. He slid some of the way and took Celebrimbor’s hand to steady himself as he reached the bottom.

“There’s no way through,” he told the smith, and accepted the water-flask he was offered with little grace and no thanks. He rinsed his mouth clean of rock dust and spat on the floor. “We’ll have to find a detour to bring us back to the surface and find the rest of the party from there.”

Celebrimbor smiled up at him; he was short for a Noldo, broad and well-muscled from years at the forge, and with a friendly, open face, lined around the mouth with both care and mirth. He did not look a thing like a Fëanorian, except for his clear grey eyes. “It will be all right,” he said with assurance. “We’ll find another way. I trust you completely, Maeglin.” Maeglin stared at him, long and hard, and Celebrimbor just shrugged, never losing his smile. “Well, of the two of us, you’re the one who knows caves. I have no doubt you can lead us out of here, sooner or later.”

Maeglin shook his head and turned sharply. “Come, then.” He didn’t turn to see if Celebrimbor followed him, but he heard footsteps after a moment.

~

They’d walked without speaking for a few hours, peering into the rough-hewn natural passageways, going forward where Maeglin thought was best, backtracking when they hit dead ends. Maeglin had a good sense of direction even underground; he figured they were heading generally west, which was good, but more northerly than southerly, which was not. West was Thargelion, and as much as he personally disliked Caranthir (as any reasonable person would), at least he was a kinsman and an ally. South, eventually, were the great citadels of the Dwarves, and that was next-best; Belegost was allied with the Noldor, and Maeglin had spent enough time in Nogrod as a youth to be fairly sure of a welcome from its people. But to the north… north were spiders and dragons, orcs and faithless Men and nameless horrors. North was the Enemy, and torture and ugly death for any Elf who strayed there. Maeglin touched his long sword at his side, which was only minimally reassuring.

Celebrimbor had been whistling under his breath, gratingly off-key, but he finally stopped and rested his hand on Maeglin’s arm. “Let’s stop for a while,” he suggested. “You ought to eat something, cousin.”

“I’m not your cousin,” Maeglin grumbled, and wrenched his arm out of Celebrimbor’s grasp. But he did follow him to a little ledge, where Celebrimbor started to lay out food he’d pulled from his pack.

“You are so,” Celebrimbor said conversationally.

Maeglin frowned at him. “ _Second_ cousin. And even then, only half.” 

“Still,” Celebrimbor answered, occupied with breaking off bits of waybread for the two of them to share, “we’re kin. And I don’t see why you dislike me so much that you won’t admit that.”

“I don’t dislike you,” Maeglin answered, surprised into sincerity. “I--” He broke off abruptly, turning toward a dark side cavern. “Did you hear that?”

Celebrimbor was silent for once, and Maeglin closed his eyes, the better to listen for what he thought he’d heard. Was it just his imagination or the echo of their own voices?

There was nothing but silence, the drip of water and the echo of distant wind, and after a while he opened his eyes again, discouraged. “I thought I heard a voice,” he told Celebrimbor, who was watching him with a curious expression. “It was nothing.”

The jewelsmith smiled and handed him a piece of waybread. “Eat,” was all he said, as cheerfully as ever.

~

Time had no meaning in the darkness below the mountains. The only light came from the light-stones the two Elves carried, and there was nothing to measure the hours by but the rhythms of their bodies. They walked, and stopped to eat and rest, and then walked again, until Maeglin was sure that they were hopelessly lost.

He didn’t say so to Celebrimbor, though, just pressed on grimly. If they were going to die down here, lost in the dark and the endless echoing caverns, he didn’t want to have to _talk_ about it first.

After another little while, the smith halted and peered at a lumpy bit of rock. “Haven’t we been here before?” he asked. “I remember that stalagmite. I remember thinking it looked a bit like a tower of Tirion in the West. Are we going in circles, Maeglin?”

Maeglin turned his gaze to the craggy ceiling and didn’t answer.

“Hm,” Celebrimbor said after a pregnant pause, and yawned. “Well, it’s as good a spot as any to rest for the night, so thank you for bringing us back here.” He sat down next to the tower-shaped stalagmite, setting his pack aside, and patted the ground next to him, smiling up at Maeglin. “Come here.”

“How do you know it’s night?” Maeglin asked, stalling.

“Well, it’s dark,” Celebrimbor said lightly, and grinned at his answering frown. “And I’m tired, so it might as well be time for sleep. Things will look brighter after we’ve had a little rest, and I’m sure we’ll find a better path in the morning. Come _here_ , Maeglin.”

Maeglin went over to him reluctantly, laying his own pack down. After a moment of hesitation he unbuckled his swordbelt and laid it on top of their packs, and then eased himself down to the cave floor. Celebrimbor slid closer, still smiling at him.

Their bedrolls and blankets were back at the camp, and they had no extra clothing to ward off the damp chill of the caves; it was only logical to share their body heat. Maeglin determinedly rolled over, staring at the distant wall while Celebrimbor moved in behind him, close enough that Maeglin could feel his breath on the back of his neck. It _was_ warmer, at least, and he was able to relax.

Until Celebrimbor slung an arm around his waist. “Well, this is unexpectedly comfortable,” he said into Maeglin’s ear. “Should I sing you to sleep?”

Maeglin sighed and pushed his arm away. “No. Has no one ever told you you can’t carry a tune?”

Celebrimbor laughed softly against his ear. “Nonsense. I’m half-Teleri on my mother’s side. I have a natural gift for song.”

He snorted but didn’t answer, and after a while Celebrimbor’s breathing grew slow and even. Maeglin lay awake for a long time, listening to the drips and drops and echoes in the dark.

~

He woke up some time later to find himself pressed against Celebrimbor’s chest with one heavy arm draped over his back. It was less uncomfortable than he would have supposed -- and at least it was warm. Maeglin lay still for a while, eyes closed, and when he opened them it was to see Celebrimbor looking at him.

“What?” he said, more snappishly than he really meant to.

“Good morning,” Celebrimbor answered, not releasing him. “I was just thinking how peaceful you look when you’re sleeping and not frowning. It’s a good look on you, Maeglin. You should try it more often.”

Maeglin shook his head and extricated himself, and went to take care of the necessaries.

When he came back Celebrimbor was rifling through his pack with a distressed expression, which he hastily covered with a slightly manic smile.

“We’re out of food, aren’t we,” Maeglin said flatly. They hadn’t carried much to begin with on what was supposed to have been a day’s surveying work: a supply of fresh water, some fruit and waybread. He wasn’t sure Celebrimbor had been very careful in rationing it out, either.

“Not _out_ ,” Celebrimbor protested. “We have enough for another meal or two, I think. And we’ll surely be out of here soon. You shouldn’t worry so much, Maeglin.”

Maeglin pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, doing his very best not to snap back. That was difficult. “We’ll eat later, then. Once we’ve found a way upward.”

He led the way, being sure to choose the branches of caverns that seemed a little lighter when he could, but try as he might Maeglin couldn’t pretend to himself that they were moving upwards. Celebrimbor was uncharacteristically quiet, only humming to himself quietly and thoughtfully as they moved.

“Maeglin?” he said during a pause where Maeglin was trying to decide whether one of the branching pathways in front of them looked slightly brighter than the other. “What you said before -- that you didn’t dislike me. Is that true?”

“What does that matter?” Maeglin answered distractedly, frowning a little as he peered down the wider path. Was it just his imagination or was there a little more movement in the air that way? “I’m stuck with you, either way.”

“It matters to me,” Celebrimbor persisted, and he stepped close and laid a hand on Maeglin’s shoulder. “Is it true?”

Maeglin didn’t see why that should be important at this juncture, but it didn’t seem worth it to lie just to watch Celebrimbor’s hopeful expression fall. “I suppose it is.”

The jewelsmith smiled, looking gratified. “I like you too, Maeglin.” He nodded as though something had been decided. “That way definitely goes upwards. Let’s go.” He clapped Maeglin on the back and brushed past him.

~

A few hours later, Maeglin still wasn’t sure that they were going more up than down as they climbed through narrow pathways and scrambled up ledges, but Celebrimbor seemed certain enough that he made Maeglin eat another bit of the waybread while they rested. “To keep up your strength,” he said, so earnestly that Maeglin felt bound to eat.

He reclined against a rocky grey pillar so straight it almost looked carved by a careful hand, watching Maeglin take sparing sips of water. “Why did you and your mother not go on to Gondolin after you left Nan Elmoth?” he asked out of the blue. “We’re all glad to have the two of you with us at Aglon, of course, but didn’t you want to see the great city and meet your nearest kin?”

Maeglin shrugged and looked away. “We planned to, but my mother had a dream,” he said, and chafed at his hands to warm them.

“Ah,” Celebrimbor said thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment or two, chewing slowly on his own bit of waybread, and then asked, “Did she dream your doom?”

“She dreamt I fell,” he said as portentously as he knew how. He did take a certain relish in the idea of having so great a doom, even if his mother had never shown a bit of inclination for foresight in her life and he very much doubted whether he’d ever so much as trip on the stairs. “From a great height, from a white tower.”

“Oh -- that’s _good_ ,” Celebrimbor said brightly, unexpectedly cheery again. At Maeglin’s startled and half-insulted glare he added, “Well, not the part where you fall, but if that’s your fate it means we’ll make it out of here, you see?” He waved his hand to indicate the damp and dark and general gloom of the caves. “No white towers.”

Maeglin snorted, blackly amused, and for a while there was a comfortable quiet between them. Finally Celebrimbor pushed himself to his feet and offered Maeglin his hand. He took it to pull himself up as well, and tried not to notice how warm and sturdy it was under the calluses from the forge.

~

The way upward, if that was really where they were going, made for more difficult going than before and left the pair of them scrambling through tight passages and scaling steep crevasses. Celebrimbor kept repeating that the difficulty was a good sign and meant they were getting closer to open air, and when they eventually stopped again at a time the jewelsmith arbitrarily decided was night, Maeglin half-believed it himself.

His clothes were damp all through and he was chilled almost immediately once they stopped moving, and he was glad to lie down next to Celebrimbor and let him drape an arm over his waist again. He was warm as a stoked furnace; without really meaning to Maeglin curled closer to that blessed heat and pressed his cold nose into Celebrimbor’s neck.

He fell asleep almost immediately, both more tired and more comforted by the other’s embrace than he’d wanted to admit, and by the time he woke again he had burrowed deep into the circle of both Celebrimbor’s arms. He pulled away more slowly than he should have, and stumbled off on unsteady legs while Celebrimbor was still blinking sleep out of his eyes and looking puzzledly after him.

For Maeglin had dreamt something he was fairly sure wasn’t a dream of foresight at all, built on Celebrimbor’s smile and bright grey eyes and those warm welcoming arms.

~

Many hours (or maybe only a few hours -- it was harder to judge time underground) into the day’s walk, they had paused for a rest. These were growing more frequent; with less food in their packs, they were more cautious about stopping to drink and rest their legs every once in a while. Celebrimbor seemed fascinated by a stream of water making its way down the wall of the cave when he cocked his head suddenly. “Maeglin,” he said softly. “Listen.”

Maeglin listened as hard as he could, but he shook his head after a moment, hearing nothing. “What is it?”

“Water,” Celebrimbor said, and scrambled to his feet. “ _Running_ water. There’s a pool somewhere nearby. There might be fish, and maybe we can follow the water upstream. It’s worth trying, at least.”

“Be careful,” Maeglin warned, following behind as the jewelsmith picked his way up a sharp incline, holding his light-stone up to illuminate the footholds. Celebrimbor ignored him, as usual when anyone tried to give a Fëanorian sensible advice about anything, and a moment later he was out of sight, with Maeglin left behind to choose his own path more carefully.

He heard Celebrimbor rustling with his clothing ahead, maybe taking off his boots -- and then an enormous splash, at which Maeglin’s heart leapt into his throat. “Celebrimbor!” he hissed, and scrambled the rest of the way up the slope, scattering dust and rocks and forgetting caution in his hurry.

He reached the crest of the slope and stared down. What had seemed like a narrow tunnel at the top of a long incline opened up into the largest cavern they’d yet seen, with a flat ceiling and domed walls that framed a long dark pool of water, low eddies of steam coiling on its surface. He could only see Celebrimbor at the bottom of the pool by the light-stone still clutched in his hand, which gave the scene an eerie green glow. Ripples moved outwards from the center of the pool, but the Elf at the bottom was still.

Almost without realizing he was doing it, Maeglin started to fumble at the buckle of his swordbelt and struggle out of his overtunic with the vague idea of diving in after Celebrimbor to save his foolhardy life. He was all ready to do it, too, but then Celebrimbor pushed off the bottom of the pool and swam like a fish to the surface, spouting water out of his mouth and grinning up at Maeglin, unconcernedly naked.

“Didn’t I tell you I’m half-Teleri?” he said, and laughed while Maeglin stood speechless, swordbelt dangling from one slack hand. “It wasn’t so bad a jump, anyway, and the water’s warm. There must be a hot spring somewhere nearby that feeds this pool.”

Maeglin shook his head, wordless, and buckled his sword back on. He peered down doubtfully into the water. “Come back up,” he ordered Celebrimbor, though he already had the sinking feeling that idea was useless. The slope Celebrimbor had jumped from was more like a precipice, too steep and slick for him to climb back up. It looked like the only way forward was through.

“I can’t!” Celebrimbor called back, confirming his fears with a wave of the light-stone that illuminated the bowl-like walls of the cavern, worn smooth by centuries of flowing water, impossible to scale without rope. “You’ll have to come down. Jump -- it’s deep enough.”

He frowned, but there was no way around it. “I can’t swim,” he said stiffly.

“Really? Not at all?” Celebrimbor was floating on his back now, possibly showing off. “Well, then, there’s a slope to your left that’s the least steep. I can see it from here. You can slide down, I’m sure. Bring my clothes along, will you?”

Maeglin was tempted to leave the scattered clothing and boots right where they were because it served Celebrimbor right for leaping before he looked, but he gathered them into a bundle instead and began to pick his way carefully down the slope while Celebrimbor amused himself doing lazy strokes the width of the pool and calling encouragement and totally unnecessary advice once in a while.

Maeglin finally made it to the pool’s edge, standing on a nearly-flat lip worn into the stone, and Celebrimbor swam over and pulled himself out too. He shook himself like a dog, sprinkling Maeglin with drops of warm water. “That feels nice. Are you sure you don’t want to go in?”

He shook his head wordlessly and sat down, leaning against the smooth cave wall and staring up. After a moment Celebrimbor sat down beside him, still utterly naked, and wrapped an arm around him.

Maeglin wasn’t a shy person by nature, but Celebrimbor unclothed was bringing back parts of the dream he’d tried very hard to forget, so he tried not to look. Sitting close beside him was even worse, especially when Celebrimbor slung an arm around him and started humming in his infuriatingly tuneless way. Maeglin closed his eyes resolutely and tried to remember that just because they were lost in an endless system of caves with a vanishingly small chance of ever seeing daylight again didn’t mean it was acceptable to lose his head entirely.

“Beautiful,” Celebrimbor said softly, and Maeglin opened his eyes again to follow the jewelsmith’s gaze across the waters. Steam was rising softly, the water rippling and reflecting the gleam of the light-stones back, and the ceiling of the cave glittered in the light. It was like nothing Maeglin had ever seen before, and it was lovely. “Maeglin, if we never leave these caves,” Celebrimbor’s arm tightened around Maeglin, “at least we’ve seen this.”

That broke the mood; Maeglin twisted to scowl at him. “What happened to ‘we’ll get out of here, Maeglin, I know we will’? Don’t _you_ start saying things like that.”

Celebrimbor laughed, his grey eyes sparkling in amusement. “Just testing,” he said, his tone lighter, and all of a sudden he leaned in and kissed Maeglin on the lips, very gently.

They were both silent, Maeglin staring at Celebrimbor, who was still smiling at him. “What,” he said finally, flatly.

Celebrimbor blinked at him guilelessly. “You said you liked me. I wanted you to know that I like you, too.”

“That’s not -- I said I don’t _dis_ like you.” Maeglin frowned at him, too aware of the blush rising on his cheeks. “And even so, we aren’t -- it’s -- that’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” The jewelsmith stroked his cheek, and to his own horror, Maeglin didn’t pull away and put a stop to the nonsense. “You’re not always as good as hiding your thoughts as you think you are, Maeglin. Especially not when you talk in your sleep.”

“Oh,” Maeglin muttered with a mortified thought for that Valar-cursed dream. He met the other’s eyes, steadfastly ignoring the whole naked rest of him. “Well. Regardless, put on your clothes, Celebrimbor.”

“Is that a no?” His grey eyes were so earnest. Not like a Fëanorian at _all_.

Maeglin hesitated for a long moment. “That is a ‘not now’. Once we find a way out, then we can talk about it.”

Celebrimbor beamed at him. “Oh, good.” He rose and reached for the wrinkled bundle of his clothing. “You know, I can feel a wind blowing, and it smells fresh. I think if we keep going around this way we might be close.”

~

Coming around a corner into an open cavern, the first beam of sunlight dazzled the both of them. Maeglin shielded his eyes against the glare, but Celebrimbor spread his arms and smiled up into the sunbeam. He’d been right, after all. It was just a few more rocky scrambles up to a crack in the side of the mountain that opened up to a view of lush forest, fair and strange and full of the sounds of life. After the damp, dark quiet of the caverns, it seemed too bright, too loud, too colorful, but Maeglin had never been more thankful to be assaulted with light.

He followed Celebrimbor out, still squinting in the sun. “It’s morning, and the sun is ahead,” he said, though he was unable to be grim despite this unwelcome discovery. “We’re on the wrong side of the mountains.”

“Yes,” Celebrimbor agreed cheerfully, “but more importantly, we’re above-ground and all is well. I told you it would be, Maeglin.” He touched Maeglin’s arm, drawing closer. “Anyway, if we kept going east we’d find all manner of wonderful new things, far from home and the war. Strange Elves in great forests, and the great delving of the Dwarves in the far east. I always did want to go there.”

Maeglin glanced at him, at the faraway look in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile a little. “One journey at a time,” he told him, and led the way up the mountainside.


End file.
